


After the Mukbang

by Politesse



Category: Danisnotonfire - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politesse/pseuds/Politesse
Summary: Well, that was fun, but after the cameras turn off... A recent video leaves Dan and Phil with a bit of a mess to clean up. Dan doesn't like this one bit.





	After the Mukbang

“Well, that went better than expected,” I said, sighing with the relief of being off-camera again nonetheless. It never really went away, that feeling of being observed.

“It did,” Phil replied, an unexplained hesitance in his voice. Like he wasn’t 100% sure he agreed. He’s an odd guy sometimes. 

The damage wasn’t as bad as I expected. Maybe I should have let us eat on the sofa after all, the table would have to be wiped down but… oh, nope. There we are. Barbecue sauce on the carpet. Okay, maybe the floor was a good idea after all. Thank god the cleaning fluid was to hand. I started scooping everything up to stuff into the waiting bin bag. 

“Do you have to talk like that to them?” Phil said quietly. 

I froze at his tone, and turned around slowly. He wasn’t even looking at me, just sitting there staring at the ground like there was a magnet in it. His shoulders were rigid. He was upset. Well, that was nothing new these days.

“Like what,” I said, even though I knew the answer.

“All that… death stuff,” he mumbled.

“It’s just…”

“I know what you say. And I know what you mean. And I wish you wouldn’t say it. You can’t just say things like that. Every time I think, what the hell would I do? You can’t just say what you want. We either have that conversation or we don’t, but don’t make me have it as a _joke_.” He finally looked up at me. Eyes dead serious. Okay, so he meant it. 

I huffed with irritation. “How many times,” I growled, “are we going to go back and forth on this one? It’s an aesthetic. An aesthetic doesn’t have to mean anything. Unless your jammies mean you’re turning into a special media manager. Just leave it be.”

I resumed my cleaning efforts, sweeping up the crumbs with the remaining towel. Phil still hadn’t moved. Typically unhelpful, I must say.

“I can’t leave it be always, Danny. ‘Cause you don’t always mean it just for the cameras. You know, and I know, and that makes it not a joke. Not for us.”

Us? Well, shit. This is not the conversation I wanted to have right now. Things had gone perfectly well. It was chill, it was nice, who cares what anyone says in the outro? And more importantly, how could I prevent this train wreck of a line of inquiry from going where it was obviously going? Time to shut this down.

“And whose business is that anyway?” I retorted, meaning to make it sound much more definitive than what actually came out. Mercifully Phil didn’t say anything to that, but his fists were clenched and his eyes had darkened yet another unfamiliar increment toward ‘actually upset’. This was not going anywhere good.

Why the hell did he care anyway? He was looking at me like… Well, honestly he was looking at my lips. Shit. Fuck. Well, we’re not going there again.

I grabbed the bin bag and tactfully retreated. 

But I ended up down the hall instead of in the kitchen. By the time I reached my bedroom, I was shaking a little. Somehow I found myself sinking to the floor, bin bag still in hand, back to the closed door, not having made it any further than the threshold. Heart pumping like mad. Breathing still racing with frustration but also now in kind of a you know, fucking mental breakdown sort of way. The carpet chafed against my skin where my jim-jams had snuck up my leg. Outside on the street, someone was making a bunch of noise. My hands were running over my arms like they belonged to someone else.

That was… it. That was fucking it. Food and cameras and friendship and international fucking tours. I’m done. I’m…

And just like that, the energy went out. I slumped against the door. Everything was sore all the sudden. Staring at the ceiling, the familiarity of it seemingly alien after so long away. Again.

And I sighed, knowing that I was lying to myself somehow, but not wanting to look at it directly. Well, a person doesn’t have to, do they?

I’ll tell you one thing, though.

I’m doing the next _mukbang_ as a solo thing.


End file.
